Stranger
by ichigogyunyu
Summary: One should never talk to strangers. And ever since he met this stranger a few months back, his life has changed forever. Kaiba reflects on his relationship with Vegeta. Warnings inside. YGO/DBZ


**Title:** Stranger  
**Rating:** M  
**Pairing: **Vegeta/Kaiba  
**Warnings: **Yaoi, dub-con, abuse, non-graphic sex, AU, X-over  
**Beta'd**: fantasy_Age  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or Dragon Ball Z. They belong to Kazuki Takahashi and Akira Toriyama respectively. This is a non-profit fanfiction.

_A/N: In a recent obsession with Dragon Ball Z, I got to writing this mostly in one night. I'm aware that Kaiba and Vegeta ever getting together is maybe a chance in a million, but I just had to write it :D Yay. Also, Seto is a bit ooc, but I think I covered or implied some kind of logic behind that. Anyways, please enjoy._

I wish I could remember how this all started, although looking back on it, I wonder if I really want to know. My relationship with him isn't exactly what you would call normal. In fact, it's the complete opposite. He was a stranger, someone from far away. Something tells me that if I had known exactly how far away he was from, I wouldn't have bothered with him in the first place. I would have ran in the other direction as fast as I could. Even my pride won't stop me from admitting this fact.

My pride.

My heart speeds up at the very thought of the one thing I always thought no one could rip from me. But somehow, _he_ can. All it takes is the moment he opens his mouth and stares me down as though I'm some kind of worthless animal. I hate myself for allowing this to happen, but I just can't help it. For when it's all over and done with, he is saying my name with as much longing as I was his just seconds before.

Nothing has changed tonight.

I sit alone in my office, finishing up the various proposals and project ideas that needed to be done. The only sound is the constant tapping of my fingers working furiously to hit each letter, symbol and number with precision. I don't make errors when it comes it my work. It is something that I know is a trait that could either make me or break me. I suppose that I can be much too finicky when it comes to certain things. The window to my left is open, allowing the cool spring air to hit my face – making me feel alive during these times (the times where my work is no longer enough to keep me satisfied). But, I know that this does not matter. If I have learned anything over the past few months: he would always come. I looked at the clock, and saved my work. There would be no need to continue on.

I look anxiously at my door, my azure eyes locked in an almost cold glare. My composure never wavered – not for a second. Not for the Yugi. Not for the mutt. Not for anyone. Even Mokuba rarely got to see a more sensitive side of me. It just wasn't in my nature. My entire life I've been used to having to be the mature one and be responsible. It is seldom that I get to relax and simply enjoy something. I guess that is the part he plays in my life.

The door swings open with much more force than was needed. I find myself staring at the man that had taken so much from me and yet given even more in return. Although physically he is shorter than I am, this has never proven to be a problem. What he lacks in height, he makes up for in both strength and personality. A quick, fiery temper and arrogance that outdoes even that of my own. His eyes and hair are as dark as the night sky outside my enormous picture window behind me. There are barely any stars out tonight, and I briefly wonder if this is a sign. Immediately after that thought I feel stupid. I don't believe in that garbage. However, things are getting harder and harder to blame on to science. I snort to myself. A logical explanation for everything … yeah, right. There is no logical explanation for what we do.

The man notices that my attention was focused elsewhere. He cocks a thick, raven brow at me – silently asking if I thought it was a good idea. I turn back and the corner of his lip quirks upward slightly. He knows that I know better than that and it pleases him.

Before my brain can even register what is going on, he is standing before me. He is lightning quick and I barely even noticed him move. This man has always been straight to the point. Muscular fingers entangled themselves in my thick chestnut hair, pulling me down to his level until our lips crashed together with force that was almost rough enough to bruise. A firm grip is kept on the back of my head as he coerces his tongue into my mouth. I willingly open up. I know better than to defy my Prince. My body is his to do with as he pleases. Of course, I still have responsibilities, such as giving him the reactions I know he wants and deserves.

His other hand, which had until recently been lying slack to his side, was now securely resting on my ass. I groaned into his mouth, and I felt him smirk slightly against my lips as he continued a full scale exploration of every inch of my mouth. Then, my tongue battled with his in a quest for dominance that I always lose, but I don't mind in the least. Perhaps I keep on playing this ever-losing battle just for the hell of it. To hear his deep growl of annoyance and then after the near painful grip he puts on me, the smug little sound he makes when I finally concede. I've made this entire ordeal into some kind of game. I know that I should feel awkward about this, but I am a businessman and I deal with games all the time. Duel monsters, chess, and even the simplicity of poker or blackjack all relate to real life in one way or another. I suppose it's only natural that I would live life and take on all of its encounters as some kind of game of strategy or chance. It gives me a sense of belonging. Even _he _seems to understand this fact about me.

I'm forced out of my thoughts by a tug on my hair and I stumble, but a pair of strong arms catch me before I fall. His onyx eyes gaze at me with lust, although his facial expression betrays nothing but arrogance. I know that he is an arrogant and proud being, but I can tell that at times like these it is a facade simply to hide emotions that he isn't quite sure how to portray – or he simply doesn't want to. I wonder if this is all part of the game he plays. The reason as to why we are still doing this even after so many months. We know each other too well.

The tones of our voices, the looks on our faces, and the emotions behind our eyes.

They tell us exactly what the other is feeling, even if it is not clearly portrayed or even the opposite. Why we still play this game is still somewhat of a mystery to me, but from what little I know of him and his cloudy past, he is used to putting on these facades as I am. I believe that this is part of the reason as to why we understand each other so very well.

"Where's that fancy chair of yours, hm?" His voice seemed to boom in the complete silence of the room. The suddenness of it making my heart skip a beat – or two. I knew that a small flash of surprise or fear must have shadowed over my face because he smirked at me as he let me up. I walked up behind my desk on shaky legs. I knew what was coming next, and I knew what it led too. I forced my hands to roll the expensive leather chair out to the middle of the office, keeping my hold on it until the older man sat down. I kicked the small mechanism on the bottom, locking it in place before moving to stand in front of him. I was rewarded with another small smirk at my subservience. He had taught me well, and I knew exactly what was required of me. I had it down the very last detail. I knew how to react, how to touch him, how to undress him and ultimately how to please him. In return, I ended up satisfied for a job well done. In short, it was a win-win situation.

I take a moment to allow my eyes to explore the entirety of him. For the first time in weeks, he has once again dressed in earth attire rather than his usual armor. He was wearing a black button-down shirt and a pair of designer blue jeans. He almost looks human, but I know that this is just a way of trying to convince myself that this is right. That this is normal. Though it is anything but. I can still easily see the rock hard muscles that cover mostly all of his body, and it strikes a fear inside of me. I know that he could harm me or kill me for that matter, even without the use of his powers. Somehow, this only makes my pants feel tighter. To know that I'm in the same room as a man who can do what he pleases whether or not he has my consent, makes me feel vulnerable. I briefly wonder if this is another one of my odd quirks. After all, normal people don't think the way I do. After my eyes have had their fill for the time being, azure meets onyx as I gaze at him imploringly.

"That suit seems a little stuffy. Wouldn't you agree, Kaiba?" He says in his deep tenor. It is not a question that is meant to be verbally answered. I know this by now, and my hands immediately go for my silk tie. I ripped it off easily as though it were some cheap and worthless garment. It falls to the floor with barely a sound, and even then my movements don't stop. My hands are fast, working on removing my tailored white business suit with the same speed and practiced precision of my typing. I don't even have to look at what I'm doing by now; a skill I required from repeatedly pulling cards from my hand and placing them in my duel disk without even having to think about it. It's amazing how easy things can become over time. Finally, my upper body is completely revealed. My slender yet decently muscled chest is nothing in comparison to his, but he has always seemed content with it. At least, he never seemed to complain. So then my hands remove my belt so swiftly that it makes a sound as it whips through the air before hitting the floor with finality. My nimble fingers then undo my zipper and I let the pants drop to my ankles before stepping out of them. The only thing covering me now were my silk boxers.

I remembered the first time we had sex and I shivered at the memory. When he found out I wore such expensive fabrics, he called me rich-boy and gave me a night that I'd never forget. He was lead to believe that I thought that I was better than him because I was wealthy. That notion had been properly put to rest after that night.

I then stepped forward. He preferred to remove my boxers himself. I suppose it had something to do with his pride. He seemed to like ripping every shred of dignity from me that was possible. Although this is something that few can manage, _he _always could. The man smirked at me, eying me like a lion does its prey. He then pointed to the floor. I immediately understood the motion and came forward, before dropping before him on my knees. I kept my eyes locked on the ground. I think that this submissive position gives him an enormous sense of pride. Which he deserves, after all he is a Prince. He believes it only fitting that I treat him as such and I couldn't agree more.

My fingers work on his zipper, pulling it down quickly and reaching in his boxers to remove the constrained member from its confines. Now is the only time I feel comfortable looking in his eyes. He watches me intently, our eyes never leaving one another's – not even for a second. I reach out to take hold of his manhood then proceed to gently move my hand up and down his entire length. Then, I lean forward some more and gently swirl my tongue around the head of his huge erection. A quiet groan escapes his throat. I feel empowered by this, and quickly take him in my mouth. I am surprised at how easily I became used to sucking him. At first, I was nervous. But soon, this activity became a game like the rest. I listen intently for any sounds, any odd breaths, and any movements to determine how he is feeling. After many months, I can now tell almost exactly what is going through his head. I feel as though I have won. I'm not exactly sure of the competition, or the prize but it gives me a sense of satisfaction nonetheless. I continue to bob my head up and down, using the small signals he didn't even notice he gave me as a guideline. I knew that when he placed his hand gently on the back of my head and tugged, that I was to stop. I pulled away and looked at him.

"Enough of this," he began, his voice husky. "I want you now." I am all to happy to oblige.

I do not expect him to return the favour. He loves to be in control, and it is never a problem. It feels wonderful, for once in my life to have no responsibilities, no worries and no stress if even for just a couple of hours a day. I am more than content to bend to his will. This handsome, nearly perfect being that now looms above me is my everything. Nothing matters right now but him. Yugi can have his victories, Pegasus can plot to take over my company, and my annual Duel Monsters tournament can be put on hold. All of those things that I once thought were my life, my _raison d'etre_, now seem so minuscule in comparison. How could it be, that cold, heartless and victory-driven Seto Kaiba could become so submissive when introduced to this monster of a being that was similar to the likes of himself? They say that opposites attract, so perhaps I changed to suit him. Maybe this was meant to be.

It couldn't be.

It is all so surreal and almost magical. But, I know that magic doesn't exist. Seto Kaiba believes in only what he can touch and see for himself. Everything has a rhyme or reason to it. I'm not even aware of why I think about this so much. It doesn't matter. The two of us are simply objects of lust to the other, nothing more. If this is so …

Why does my heart hurt?

How can something so wrong be so right?

When I am repeatedly slammed into my desk, important documents flying around the room as though they are worthless fliers – my top-of-the-line laptop crashing to the floor with a dull thud. With the gorgeous cherry wood beneath me creaking dangerously: I have never felt better. I scream and call out his name as he now begins to hit the mark on each thrust which makes me see stars. The man smirks then groans as he notices that I get closer and closer to the edge.

He is not a gentle lover, and he never has been. With every single thrust, he fills me completely and brutally. My callused fingers hold onto the edges of my desk with all the strength they have to keep me from slipping or falling off. The sweat glistening off my body and soaking the wood surface under me is uncomfortable but I can't even focus on it. All that matters is the pleasure I am feeling. He takes me to higher and higher highs each and every time. I know that I do the same for him.

And even though it is my name he calls in ecstasy when he reaches his peak, it is never enough. I can tell there is a reason behind all of this, and that it is wrong. He is a stranger, someone from far away. He comes from a planet that is in a separate universe all together. He is an alien. Something tells me I should find this sick, bedding someone who has the power to blow up Kaiba Corporation with a flick of the wrist, and the entire world with not much more. However, I can't bring it upon myself to distance myself from him.

He entices me.

As the saying goes, one should never talk to strangers. This is what my mother always told me before the accident. I understand now how right she was regarding this fact. Ever since I met this stranger a few months ago, my entire life has changed. I still cannot tell if this is for the better, or for the worse.

But, as the Saiyan wraps his tail around me in a possessive yet loving gesture, I realize that I don't really care.

Vegeta is wholly and entirely, out of this world.

_A/N: Well, what do you all think? Not as bad as you thought it would be, right? Please review. I'll give you OVER 9000 hugs! Pretty please? _


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